What people liked to forget was that even Sam had his demons. You wouldn't know it by looking at him, but he rarely slept through the night and the 4th of July made him want to curl up in a sound-proof basement every year. Only because he wasn't too proud (or too stupid) to seek help dealing with his issues didn't mean those issues weren't still there. Only because he preferred to smile and joke instead of wallowing in self-pity didn't mean he didn't see Riley plummet from the sky every single night in his dreams.
He wasn't invincible. People forgot about that. A lot.
There were fresh flowers on the grave. Memorial, really, because they never had a body to bury. A dead pararescue going down over hostile territory hadn't been important enough to risk more lives for. Sam was still bitter about that. Riley'd deserved better. More than just a Purple Heart, a hero's funeral and a flag for his bereft mother. His country had failed Riley, worse, Sam had failed him. And he'd repent for that sin for the rest of his life.
âHey,â he whispered, kneeling down and placing his own white roses on the damp earth. He could barely make out the writing on the headstone in the dark but coming by day would have been too risky. He was after all still a fugitive. âBrought you somethin' cool. Thought you might like to see it.â The shield gleamed in the moonlight and he briefly thought that it looked strangely right leaning against the white marble. Riley would have been so much better at this.
âI guess I'm the Captain now,â he joked only to remember painfully, that Riley was already dead for too long to understand the reference. âThis is hard, man. I don't know if I'm the right guy for this job. Steve thinks I am. But it's Steve. He always tries to see the best in people. You'd like him.â There was a sudden wetness in his eyes blurring his vision and Sam had to take a deep breath to collect himself. âFuck, Riley, life sucks without you.â His voice breaking, Sam gave up the fight for his composure and let the tears fall freely now. âSteve's a great, great guy, don't get me wrong. I love him. But he's not you. There are things he just wouldn't understand.â
Somewhere in the distance a siren went off, reminding Sam that his time was limited and precious. âI hate him sometimes,â he confessed for the first time ever. It felt like a mountain lifting off his shoulders to say the words out loud. âI know it's not fair. It's not his fault, dammit.â Now that he'd started, the words just kept tumbling out and it was a relief. Here he knew he was safe. Riley would never tell anyone his secrets.
âI know I'm monster for even thinking it, but I wish Barnes would have just stayed dead.â There. He'd said it. The most awful, vile of his secrets that he refused to even think about most days but that kept lingering in the back of his mind like a venomous snake, ready to strike and paralyse at any point. âGod, I shouldn't even be thinking that. It is not fair!â All the emotions, anger, grief, resentment, fear, were suddenly overwhelming and left him trembling and breathing heavily. âIt's not fair,â he said a third time, this time barely above a whisper. âIf he can get his guy back, then why can't I?â But Riley didn't answer. Dead men didn't talk after all.
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